You be forever, I'll be always
by TiTivillus
Summary: AU. John has adopted two boys and learned to love them like his own. But when Dean leaves to join the Marines and Sam finds himself on the fast track to destruction, will John be able to keep his family together? Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean and John, Loads of Angst and Hurt/Comfort
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **_You be forever, I'll be always_

**Summary: **AU. John has adopted two boys and learned to love them like his own. But when Dean leaves to become a warrior and Sam finds himself on the fast track to destruction, will John be able to keep his family together? Hurt!Sam, Protective!Dean and John, Loads of Angst and Hurt/Comfort_  
><em>

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the show or any of its characters. Sad but true. ;P

**Warnings: **Rated T for strong language, graphic violence and mentions of past abuse.

**A/N: **Totally AU. Just trying something new for a change. Really curious how this will turn out.

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><p>Sam's knees hit the bathroom tiles with a loud thump, sweaty fingers slipping on cool porcelain and chest heaving for breath as he started retching forcefully into the bowl.<p>

His lean frame was shaking with the intensity of the white hot pain stabbing at his eyelids and Sam groaned as another tremor wrecked his body.

He didn't know how much time passed as he kneeled there, pressed up against the toilet while silent tears of agony streamed down his gaunt face and dripped down his chin in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Was it minutes? Hours?

Either way, the gagging stopped at some point, nothing left in his stomach to expel and Sam slumped forward as his elbows gave way, no longer able to support him.

He had just enough energy left to flush, before he flopped over on the dirty tiles, eyes squeezed shut against the raging headache that became gradually worse with each passing second.

His own breathing sounded loud in the sudden quiet, ricocheting from the bathroom walls as he squirmed into a less painful position on the ground, eyes fluttering closed as another tear escaped from his eyes.

At some point he must have fallen asleep or lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew was a light slap to his face, ripping him out of his haze.

"Sam! Open your fucking eyes, boy. C'mon"

"Unghh..." Sam groaned weakly, coming to. With great effort he managed to crack his dilated eyes open, squinting up to meet his adoptive father's disappointed glare.

"Goddamnit, Sam. " John angrily muttered, towering over him. "You can't keep doing this shit to yourself."

Sam felt his stomach churn as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the pain that shot through his side at the movement.

John looked pissed, but that wasn't all too surprising.

Sam couldn't remember how he had gotten home the night before, but judging from the dark look on his adoptive father's face he had probably woken him in the process.

"Time 's it?" Sam croaked, running a shaking hand over his face. John clenched his jaw, eyes sparking with barely concealed anger.

"Too fucking early to find you passed out in your own vomit, that's for fucking sure. What the hell were you thinking, Sam? For a second there, I almost thought-"

John cut himself off and Sam glanced up in time to see his hands tightening into fists.

He lowered his head, feeling a trace of guilt at his adoptive father's words.

He hadn't meant to put that worried expression on John's face, hadn't meant for the man to find him in this state, when all John ever did was to keep him out of trouble give him a chance at a better life. And yet here they were...

"I'm sorry..."

John sighed and sat down on the edge of the bath tub. "You always are."

"What else do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to _say _anything, Sam! I want you to stop sneaking out at night and getting involved with the wrong crowds. I want you away from the streets and away from drugs and guns and gangs and all the other shit you're getting yourself into. Don't you see that you're on a downward spiral?"

_Downward spiral? _

Sam's lips twitched into a bitter smile. Because there was no such thing as a downward spiral for somebody who had already hit rock bottom.

"You regret taking me in, already?" Sam provoked, words rolling off his tongue in a spiteful tone. "Regret having such a lowlife scum for a son?"

He knew he was being unfair, but he just couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer.

After all, it had been the reason why all his previous foster parents had given up on him.

The drugs, the school skipping, the bad language- they had all seen Sam for what he was. Just a worthless kid from the streets. Stupid. Weak. _Dirty. _

But John had always been different. He had taken him in despite _everything_, had adopted him, cared for him and shown him what a true family was all about.

So throwing that into his face- saying that John didn't want to have him for a son, that he didn't _care_- was a low blow, even for Sam's standards.

But there was no sense to wallow in the past- he couldn't take his words back and he certainly couldn't make them unheard.

"You got no fucking right to talk to me like that! Not after everything I've done for you" John snapped, driving his fist against the bathroom wall.

"For 5 fucking years I've been cleaning up your messes! I shared my home with you, my food, my _last name_- and this is how you fucking thank me?!"

Sam flinched on instinct, tensing up at the sharpness of John's tone.

His father stepped forward, one arm extended and Sam's shoes squeaked on the tiled bathroom floor as he tried to scramble away from the touch.

"I-I'm sorry" he muttered, arms shooting up to cover his face, an automated motion perfected over years of having to live with an abusive father and a mother that was so drugged to the gills that she couldn't be bothered to care whether or not Sam would make it through the night.

But this was another life now, Sam reminded himself.

And the blows he had mistakenly expected, wouldn't be coming.

Because no matter how pissed John was, he had never, _never _raised his hand against Sam in anger.

John froze mid-movement upon noticing Sam's panicked reaction.

"Are you- Jesus, Sam are you afraid of me?!" he asked, completely mortified by the suggestion.

Sam winced, slowly lowering his arms and squinting up at John from behind sweaty hair strands. "I-I'm sorry. I-"

"Fuck... I can't. I just- I'm gonna be back, I can't deal with this right now."

John turned to leave- just one more person to add to the never-ending list of people who Sam had lost- of people he had disappointed.

And Sam wanted to scream and fucking cry, but all he could do was sit and stare as his adoptive father turned his back on him.

He was blinking back tears, trying to calm his raging heart, when John suddenly hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder with a pained expression.

"Just tell me one thing- are you using again?"

Sam bit his lower lip, trying to be strong on the inside, while the rest of his strength faltered beneath his father's angry glare.

He shook his head, driving a trembling hand through his disheveled mop of hair.

Flecks of blood and vomit were splattered across his arms and the front of his shirt.

His clothing reeked of cheap alcohol and marijuana.

He could remember someone offering him crack the other night, but he didn't take it.

He wanted to, but he didn't.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you!"

"I didn't take anything. Just drank too much..."

John nodded his head, not really meeting his eyes and Sam was feeling pathetically inadequate as a son.

_Oh he had royally fucked up, so much was for fucking sure._

"You hurt anywhere- I mean seriously injured? Because I fucking need to know if something happened to you, Sam-"

"I'm fine. Nothin' life-threatening or I would have told you."

"Alright..." John exhaled, not looking all too convinced by Sam's assurance. Under different circumstances, John would have never left without checking his son's wounds himself.

But tonight, things had gone a little too far and John's pride was too hurt for an act of gentleness.

In a way, Sam sometimes felt like he and John had many things in common.

"You know-" John spoke slowly, crossing his bulky arms in front of his chest.

"Dean would be disappointed."

Sam's breath caught in his throat, heart twisting painfully in his chest.

He couldn't believe John would play that fucking card against him.

Because there was nobody on the face of the planet that could make Sam crumble faster than his adoptive brother.

Dean had left them 2 years ago to become a Marine, because apparently even fighting a war was easier than to stay close to someone as broken and worthless as him.

Sam felt the familiar sting of tears burning in his eyes and he bit his lip, trying to keep it from trembling.

Sometimes he missed Dean so much that the pain he felt got almost _physical _like nothing else Sam had ever endured.

And other times, when he lied awake in bed at night, he ran his fingers over the little horned penchant his brother had left him as keepsake and it felt like the whole world around him was shattering into thousands of pieces.

On nights like these, Sam often sneaked out to meet up with the guys and got drunk.

They'd smoke a little weed and do stupid shit and Sam would forget -even just for a little while- that the person that meant the world to him, was off to get himself killed in the battlefield.

John knew that Sam missed his brother.

That's why he rarely spoke of Dean these days. Because the memories were still too painful for both of them.

The fear of losing the third member of their broken little family was still too big.

But today John had done it nonetheless.

Had used Dean against Sam in the most cruel way possible and now it was all he could do to keep his emotions in check.

"Dean wouldn't want you to throw away your future like this" John reasoned. "You mean too much to him."

Sam knocked his head back against the bathroom wall, squeezing his eyes shut at another onslaught of pain. "Apparently 'too much' wasn't enough to make him stay."

And who could blame Dean for trying to get away from Sam?

After all, it wouldn't be the first time somebody he cared about decided he wasn't worth the trouble.

John shook his head, watching Sam with saddened eyes, before he turned around and left the room.

"Sleep it off, Sam. And stop wallowing in self-pity. You're way too old for this crap."

**SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN**

John pulled the door closed on his way out and slumped against the wall out in the hallway, feeling completely drained. He waited until he heard scuffling noises and squeaky pipes coming to life, before he turned away from the door and hurried towards his own bedroom.

He hadn't meant to be so harsh to the kid, hadn't meant to frighten or hurt Sam in any way. But he was starting to feel like the boy was slipping out of his grasp and it made him desperate.

Glancing around his room, John automatically knew what he had to do.

He snatched his phone from the small night stand next to his bed and started hitting speed dial.

It rang three times before someone picked up on the other line.

"Yeah?"

John closed his eyes at the sound of his oldest's voice. It had been a long while since they had last spoken. Dean sounded tired but good. Healthy.

And that was all that mattered to John anyways- that the kid was alive and kicking.

"Dean..." he breathed, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by emotions. "How are you doing, ace?"

There was a second of silence and John imagined what Dean's face would look like right now, what emotions would be displayed in his emerald green eyes.

"John?" he sounded more alert than before and John briefly wondered what time it was in Afghanistan right now, before he returned the question with a soft "Yeah, it's me."

"You alright? Something happen? Is Sammy okay?"

John's chest tightened painfully at the concern in Dean's voice.

It was so typical of the boy to be worried of him and Sam, while he himself was in constant danger of getting hurt or even _killed_ in the war.

"Yeah, we're... we're ok, Dean. Missing you like crazy but other than that... How are you?"

"Fine. John, you're scaring me. You know I only have my phone for emergencies. They don't like us to call home."

John swallowed. "I know that, son."

"So whatever happened must be bad enough to warrant a call at 4: 27 in the morning. I mean I know I have a charming voice and all, but-"

John smiled wistfully at his oldest's usual playfulness, before getting more serious.

"It's about Sam-"

"I thought you said he was fine." Dean accused, voice instantly going up a notch in volume and urgency.

Oh yeah, John had almost forgotten how protective Dean was of his little brother.

"He is. More or less. I found him passed out on the toilet about an hour ago. He was hard to rouse, wouldn't wake up at first. And there was blood in his face and vomit on his shirt and I can't be sure but I think he's doing drugs again, Dean. I don't know what to do..."

"Shit. That's your definition of 'fine'?" Dean swore on the other end of the line, sounding wrecked at the unexpected news. "That little brat... He fucking promised me to stop using!"

"I can't know for sure. He wouldn't tell me anything, but the signs were pretty obvious. Sweating, trembling, blown pupils and he was pretty out of it at first."

"Out of it?" Dean sounded confused.

"Yeah like... fuck. Dean, he thought I was going to hit him when I reached out towards his face."

"Goddamnit, John. You know how he gets when you move to quickly! I told you a million times to be careful around him!"

"Shit happens, Dean! The kid has been with me for over 5 years now and he still doesn't trust me. How do you think that makes me feel, to have him shy away from my touch- to look at me with fear shining in his eyes?!"

John's heart was racing in his chest, his breath coming in ragged little pants as he tried to reign his temper.

Dean was silent on the other end, precious seconds ticking away between them.

"Look I know you're trying your best, okay? I'm not saying you ain't a good father. But Sammy isn't like me, John. He is fragile."

_Fragile._

John found the term rather fitting to describe his youngest.

"I know, he is. I just-" he paused, struggling for words.

"You were always so good with him, Dean. I just wish you were here to set him straight. You know, it's not the same since you left. It hit him harder than you might think. The kid really worships you."

"Fuck, John... You trying to kill me here or something?"

There was another pause. A barely audible sniffle. "I miss him too. Both of you."

John didn't comment on how his son's voice was cracking when he spoke.

It was good to know that Dean still had his heart in the right spot.

That the horrors of the war hadn't managed to numb him down emotionally.

"Just make sure he stays clear of trouble, okay? Don't let him get anywhere near that Franko guy and his gang, you hear me? That's really important, John, they are bad news."

"Got it" John agreed, nodding his in silent confirmation. "You- you already know when you'll be able to come back home?"

"John..."

"I thought maybe Christmas time or something. It doesn't even have to be for long. Just a couple of days during the holidays..."

Dean sighed heavily on the other end of the line and John braced himself for a rebuff.

He knew it was nothing personal, that Dean would gladly take the next plane to come visit his family, but he had a responsibility towards the rest of his squad and the war wouldn't stop just so the soldiers could go home and spend a couple of nice days with their families.

"You know how much I wish I could see you guys. I just- I don't want to make any promises that I can't keep, John. Especially if Sammy is already having such a hard time. He'd only get his hopes up and if I didn't come..."

Dean left his sentence unfinished, but John could all too well imagine the devastation Sam would feel if his big brother wouldn't be able to keep his promise.

"You are right" John conceded softly. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I know you would be here if you could."

"Right. Uhm... listen, John. I have to get ready now or they'll notice me gone... I'll try to sneak away and catch a hold of you more often if possible."

"Yeah, you do that. And Dean? Take care of yourself, boy."

John could practically hear Dean's smile when he answered. "I will, you too. And give Sammy a hug for me, alright? Tell him... tell him I love him, alright?"

John swallowed. "I will."

"Bye, Dad"

There was a click on the other end of the line as Dean hung up and John closed his eyes, feeling a first tear slip out from beneath his eyelashes.

Dean didn't call him 'dad' very often. And he also didn't tell anybody that he loved them very often. The fact that he had done both in the span of only a few seconds, was testament to how much he missed them.

"Bye, son" John said in a painful whisper, wiping a wayward tear from his face.

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading! :) So this sorta came to my mind and needed to be written :-S I intend for it to become a longer WIP with plenty of angst and hc But I wanted to check in with you guys first and see whether you liked the idea or not ;)_  
><em>Pleaaase tell me what you think! Reviews and support of any kind is always highly appreciated :D Thanks!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** You be forever, I'll be always

**Chapter2**

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><p>John rubbed his stubbled jaw and took another sip of his coffee. With the phone clutched between shoulder and ear, he shimmied out of his jacket and leaned back against his seat.<p>

"Listen Doris- can I call you Doris? I'm really sorry to hear about all that, but there's nothing I can do. I've got my hands full with Sam as it is and even if I had the spare money to feed an extra mouth, I don't usually take kids this young. You know that. Dean was 13 when I got him and Sam was 11. I've no idea how to deal with a 6 year old..."

"Mr. Winchester..." the social worker sighed. "I wouldn't call you if it wasn't urgent. We only need you to keep him for a couple of months until we find a family to adopt him."

John closed his eyes. He swallowed, unsure of what to say.

It's not like he had anything against younger children per-se, but John was a little rough around the edges sometimes and especially now- with Dean being so far away and Sam slipping out of his grasp, he felt a little out of his element when it came to parenting.

The boy they were talking about had lost both his parents to a car accident. From what he had heard, the kid hadn't said a word since it happened. Selective mutism or something... Add to that vicious nightmares, crying and a pretty impressive eating disorder and you had your perfect trauma- child with little to no chances of finding a family to adopt it and treat it with the love and patience it needed.

But John wasn't prepared for that either. He worked full time at the auto shop and did some moonlighting on weekends when people in town (mostly older ladies or single women) had a blocked drain or problems with their car. He was hardly ever home to be honest and he couldn't afford to lose his job at the garage.

John sighed again, feeling the decision weigh heavy on his shoulders. "I don't like to say this- but wouldn't the boy be better off in a foster home? I am hardly the perfect father material- I mean don't get me wrong, I love my boys and I wouldn't want to miss them, but this case seems rather complex and I don't know if I'd be the right choice for a kid like him."

"Well since you already had two very complex cases with your previous adoptions, I am sure this one would be within the realm of your expertise, Mr. Winchester. Especially given Sam's tragic background and how well you handle him-"

John bit his lips to hold back a snort of bitterness. Yeah right.

Because he and Sam were the picture-perfect family and everything was just sunshine and happiness. A tense silence erupted when John didn't know how to respond to the social worker's words.

"Alright..." John finally breathed, rubbing the base of his nose to keep his headache in check. "I'll think about it. Can I get back to you in a couple of days?"

"Sure," the line crackled and even over the phone it was easy to make out the relief in the social worker's voice. "Get in touch as soon as possible, so that we can hash out the details."

John ended the call with a clipped goodbye, and drowned the rest of his by now- look warm coffee in one go. He was still deeply lost in thought, when Sam sauntered into the kitchen, looking like death warmed over.

John peered at him with narrowed eyes, still slightly pissed for his son's immature actions from the night before.

"So how's that hangover working for you?" he asked with a gleeful smile, eyes skimming disinterestedly over the newspaper in front of him. Sam looked at him in a variation of his patented bitch-face before gulping down the water and refilling his glass.

He was wearing a new set of clothes at least, Dean's leather jacket sitting loosely on his too narrow shoulders. It was endearing, how Sam tried to imitate his adoptive brother, always trying to be just like Dean- just like he did in the beginning, when he was nothing but a scrawny kid who needed somebody to understand and protect him just as much as Dean needed somebody to love and take care of.

"Who were you talking to?" Sam asked in a hoarse voice, probably from whatever the kid had been smoking the night before. John's frown deepened ever so slightly. He really hoped it was only cigarettes.

"Social worker..." John answered and then instantly regretted his choice of words when he saw Sam's eyes widen in panic. The glass slipped from Sam's grasp and shattered into a thousand pieces, water spilling everywhere.

Sam's face paled and his eyes started watering.

"Sammy..." John shot up from his seat, newspaper and coffee instantly forgotten at the sight of his son's heartbreaking reaction.

"Are you- is it because of what happened?" Sam uttered brokenly, eyes wide and pleading as his face crumbled.

"Sam. Listen-"

"I won't do it again, I s-swear. Please don't-" A tear broke free from Sam's eyes and John hastily stepped over the broken glass shards to pull Sam in for a tight hug. The teen resisted the gesture for a second before returning it with just as much fervor, fingers tightly clutching John's shirt in an effort to pull him closer.

"Don't send me away. I'll be better, I swear-"

"Hey, Sam. C'mon buddy, look at me-" John pulled away a little and Sam lost his grip on John's shirt, choking on a panicked sob. Their eyes met and John's throat constricted at the fear that came shining back at him from Sam's watery gaze.

"The call had nothing to do with you alright? I would never give up on you, you hear me? Not ever. No matter what shit you pulled. You're my kid and I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

Sam looked at him with a mixture of relief and disbelief and John used his son's distraction to make another point. "That doesn't mean, however that I will sit back and watch you throw your life away. We worked too hard to get you a better shot at it. So for your own good, Sammy, I'm begging you, stay on the right track, okay? You are too smart for this crap. You could become a hotshot lawyer for all I know- get into one of these super-fancy league schools with that brain of yours..."

"Yeah right," Sam snorted, wiping at the wetness on his cheeks. His face was flushed with embarrassment and he bit his lower lip, driving a trembling hand through his thick, messy hair as he took a step back from John. "Because big fancy elite universities would take someone like me into their rounds. I don't think so."

"I mean it." John shot back fiercely, causing the teen to flinch a little. "You are smart as hell, okay? If you'd only put your head into school, you could come out top of the class, every year. Hell, you could get a full ride if you wanted to-"

"No I can't! Don't you see that this is a load of bull? I will never be anything but scum to these people- my teachers, my classmates, my neighbors...I will never fit into their shiny world of perfection."

John stared at Sam open-mouthed, taken aback by his youngest's self-worth issues. They had been through this so many times, but Sam still seemed to think that he wasn't good enough- that he was somehow tainted and worthless to everyone around him.

"You are the only one who thinks that, Sammy..." John explained tentatively, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "I don't know what ever gave you the thought that you're worth less than the rest of the world, but it's just not true. You're a good person, Sam. You've got your heart in the right spot and that's all that counts."

Sam's lips twitched into a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If you say so..."

"I know so. Now about that call I had-"

"Yeah?" Sam frowned, eyebrows raised, because if the call hadn't been about him, he probably couldn't think of any other reasons why John would want to talk to CPS.

"How do you feel about getting a little brother?"

Sam's mouth fell open, his eyes widening in shock and confusion. "_What_?" he asked with a frown. "What are you talking about?"

"CPS called me because I'm listed as an emergency contact for special cases." John explained slowly, watching his son's expression to try and gauge his reaction to the news.

"They got this boy… he lost both of his parents in an accident and refuses to talk. So they are having trouble finding a family for him. I figured… I'd talk to you first and then make a decision."

Sam looked at him in disbelief, eyebrows raised and shoulders tensing. There was a flicker of defiance in his hazel eyes, but it died down again before it could catch fire. John frowned, knowing that Sam didn't like the news but was too afraid to voice his doubt due to his fear of angering his old man.

"You don't like the idea…" John sighed in a defeated tone, rubbing a hand over his face.

Sam's features softened ever so slightly- his mouth still turned down at the edges. "It's not- look… I'm sorry for the kid, alright? I really am. But do you really think you're up for another screw-up to add to this family?"

A bitter expression settled on John's face as he shook his head, the disappointment obvious in his calm gaze. "I ever had an attitude like that- Dean would still be living on the streets and you would still be-"

John cut himself off abruptly but the silent implication was there, unspoken and unspeakable. Terrifying, even after all of these years.

Sam's face grew somber, lips pressed together as if to keep himself from screaming.

His eyes clouded over with the hazy memories of a tormented past. "Do whatever you want then," the teenager shot back before shoving past his adoptive father and heading for the door. "You've already made up your mind without me, anyway."

**SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~**

Sam felt miserable. And it wasn't just due to the fact that he was at school, although that alone was reason enough to warrant a suicide attempt in Sam's eyes.

But apart from that, he also had to run around with a hangover from hell, whole body aching in the aftermath of his excessive drinking the night before.

And as if that was not enough, now he had to deal with the bullshit John had told him on top of everything else. Another Winchester family member. As if three of them weren't already enough.

What the hell was John thinking?

Leaning back against the metal door of his battered high school locker, Sam watched as crowds of students filled the hallways around him after the bell had rung.

Looking out for a familiar face, Sam dug one of his hands into the pockets of Dean's old leather jacket and pulled out his zippo.

He clamped a fresh cigarette behind his left ear, waiting for his friend Cody to finally get his ass into gear so that they could leave this shit hole and have a that well-needed smoke.

Across the hallway- close to the teacher lounge, a group of girls was catching his attention. They were giggling and throwing their heads back in exaggerating motions, throwing him furtive glances and promising smiles. Sam quickly looked away, before any of them could get any ideas- fingers itching for that cigarette more than ever. His heart started racing in his chest, palms getting sweatier with each whispered word and appreciative glance thrown into his direction.

It wasn't anything new- for some reason, Sam seemed to have a magnetic pull on some of the girls at his high school, but that didn't mean he felt comfortable with being the center of attention.

He had never liked it when people stared at him, and in all honesty- the girls were a little too plastic and shiny for his taste. He preferred girls who had self-respect and who put their brains to good use, girls who were beautiful without all that fake make-up crap and didn't dress like they were about to start a career as hooker.

But girls like that were hard to come by and Sam was pretty sure that a decent girl would never show any interest in a good-for-nothing low-life like himself.

"Sam-the-man!" a cheerful voice ripped him out of his thoughts when Cody appeared next to him in the hallway, slinging an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close.  
>Panic bubbled up in Sam's chest and he hastily shoved Cody away, not liking it when people got into his space.<p>

"Knock it off, asshole…" he murmured, picking his backpack up from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. Cody raised both hands in the air, taking a step back as if to show his surrender. "Kitty's got claws, huh?"

"Fuck you." Sam shot back, lips twitching into a weak grin as they started walking down the hallway towards the school's exit. Cody's blond hair was a mess; his clothes were reeking of stale cigarette smoke and beer. He had dark rings beneath his red-shot eyes and if Sam didn't know it any better he would say his friend wasn't any better off than himself.

"Man… you were shitfaced last night. Can't believe you are even still alive after what you pulled at that party," Cody chuckled, shaking his head as they passed the group of girls Sam had noticed earlier. He flashed his best grin at a busty red-head, wolf-whistling as he tracked her seemingly endless legs and Sam sped up his pace, annoyed by his friend's horny childishness.

"Man…did you see that chick's skirt? You could practically see all the way up her-"

"Shut up, Cody," Sam interfered angrily, wasting no time to light up his cigarette as he stepped through the doorway into freedom. "You're being a disrespectful douche, okay?"

Cody snorted, snitching Sam's cigarette from his fingers and taking a deep drag. "Hey, just because you're fucking gay doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good-"

"Screw you! I'm not gay, you fucking idiot. Just not having the same low standards as you."

"Oh yeah? Well so much for being disrespectful," Cody snapped back in return. Silence passed between them and Sam closed his eyes at the sharp sting of smoke that caught in his throat. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered…

"So…" Cody started after a little while, leaning back against the hood of his dad's old pick-up truck. „Jack's got the house to himself next Friday. His parents are gone on a business trip or somethin'. He asked me to liven up the party with some… _fuel_."

Sam's eyes narrowed as he flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground. "What kind of fuel are we talking about here?"

Cody grinned secretively, before opening the door of his truck with a rusty squeak and motioning for Sam to sit inside. Sam hesitated before following his friend inside the battered vehicle.

Cody opened the glove compartment and Sam's heart stuttered to a sudden halt, his eyes widening instantly at what he found inside. On top of dozens of unpaid checks and dirty plastic wrappers rested a little plastic bag filled with white pills.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is…" Sam couldn't even get himself to speak the words out loud. Cody ran his fingers over the bag almost reverently before shoving the compartment back closed and locking it.

"Speed. Some of the finest I've ever had… fresh from the production. The guys at Jack's party will never know what hit 'em."

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Cody?! Where did you even get this shit from?"

"Bought it from some guy named Thomas at the party the other night… the guy obviously had no clue about how good this stuff is because he was totally underpricing…"  
>Sam's heart sped up even more in his chest at the news, snorting in disbelief at his friend's incredible stupidity.<p>

"You fucking idiot. Jesus why the hell would you buy shit from Thomas? Don't you know he's Franko's right-hand man? They don't do overpricing, Cody. These guys are big fish, okay? They are gonna want something back from you in return!"

Cody's grin vanished from his lips, face growing somber and lips falling open. "What- no, man, you got it all wrong-"

"Look, I don't know what Thomas told you, but the guy isn't stupid. Dean and him go way back and he warned me about him before he left." Sam might be pissed at his adoptive brother for leaving their family, but he had always taken Dean's heedings seriously. If his brother felt the necessity to warn him about somebody, he most certainly had a very good reason to do so.

"You gotta bring this shit back to them and return it. What were you planning to do with it anyway?! Put it in the punsch and wait until everybody goes nuts?! You can't just run off and drug people."

Sure, Sam wasn't a saint either.

He drank way too much and smoked pot and got high, even took the occasional pill when the mood struck him, but it was always just his own life he was messing with.

He'd never even think about getting somebody else hooked on drugs- or make money by selling them.

For him, drugs were a way to escape the cruelty of a cold and consumer-driven world without justice. A way to bridge his own loneliness and to find peace when the memories of his past tried to drag him under yet again. It was okay to take drugs, when your life didn't hold any meaning and was bound to end in failure anyways. But it was not okay to drag other people (good people) to the mud with him.

Cody stared intently at him for a couple of seconds, eyes wide and insecure before a cool defiance settled in his gaze and he turned away from Sam, staring out of the windshield.

"Whatever, dude. You wanna feel all fucking high-and-mighty, go ahead. But don't come running if you pass up the fucking best high of your life for some dude who doesn't even _care_ about yo-"

Cody's was harshly shut off when Sam's fist connected with his cheek-bone, snapping his friend's head viciously to the side and causing blood to gush from his nose.  
>Cody groaned, hand shooting up to his face, eyes wide in shock as he met Sam's flustered gaze. "I-I'm sorry… fuck. Man, I didn't mean to-"<p>

He really hadn't. Just… Dean was still a sore topic for Sam and his friend had pushed his buttons, purposefully saying things to hurt him. And then he'd just kind of lost it.

Cody's face morphed from shock to anger. "Get out of my car."

Sam hesitated for a second, heart beating frantically in his chest, but when his friend's raging expression didn't waver, he sighed and slipped out of the old truck quietly.

Cody had started the engine and was driving off before Sam had even fully closed the door. The teen watched the retreating car with the sinking feeling of unease in his stomach, instinctively knowing that-whatever happened next, Cody was in serious trouble.

**SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN~SPN**

Later that night, when John and him were having Dinner in tense silence, the only audible sound being the scraping of cutlery on ceramic, his adoptive father somehow managed to make his day even worse.

"I talked to your brother yesterday…" John said nonchalantly, as if that tidbit of information wasn't even interesting; as if they got to talk to Dean all the freaking time. Sam's head snapped up from his stew, spoon dropping to clatter against his plate. "What? When!? Why didn't you let me know?"

They always made sure to be at home at the same time when they called Dean, knowing it might be a longer while until they would get to hear his voice next… So why hadn't his adoptive father told him first? Sam would have skipped the fucking party for a chance to get to talk to his brother… hell, he would have driven home from it if he'd known.

When John didn't look up to meet his imploring gaze, things suddenly started to dawn on him.

"You called him to freaking tattle-tale?!" Sam cried disbelievingly, anger bubbling up in his chest. He shoved his plate away from his chest, feeling sick all of a sudden. "Is this supposed to be some kind of punishment?"

"Call it whatever you want, but I needed to hear his voice and you were too busy blowing chunks to have a simple phone conversation."

Sam's jaw dropped open, bitter resentment filling his heart. "I need to hear his fucking voice too! You know how long I'll have to wait now to be able to freaking call him again?!"

John scraped the rest of the stew from his plate, munching away happily before helping himself to a second serving. "Well maybe it will give you the time to think about your mistakes. Your brother says hi, by the way. He's doing great, all limbs still attached…"

Sam's nostrils flared as he shot up from his seat, flat palms resting on either side of the table as he leaned forward. His eyes held so much anger that they were burning with it. "Well maybe you should call him again tonight, tell him all about your little plan to find a _substitute son_ for the next time when you'll call and he won't be able to pick up because he's fucking _**dead**._"

John's eyes ripped open in shock at Sam's words and for once he was absolutely speechless, unable to utter a single word into the destructive silence that stretched out between them.

Sam slammed a hand over his shaking lips, closing his eyes, a picture of Dean's laughing face flashing in his head, framed in silver with a black band wrapped around the corner of his photograph. Men in uniforms carrying a coffin, the union jack fluttering desperately in the biting wind. It was so palpable in his mind- his worst nightmare, all laid out before him and ready to turn into reality.

"I'm outa here…" Sam uttered chokedly and stormed out of the room without a glance back.

**TBC...**

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><p><em>Sorry for the late update guys, hope you enjoyed the second chapter! Thanks for R&amp;R, this story is a lot of fun to write and as long as I know people are enjoying it, I promise to continue with it! (even if it might take me longer to update at times.. :-S)<em>

_So who can guess, who that mysterious 6-year old might be? Next chapter will have Dean again ;) And the soon-to-be third Winchester brother ;) For all of you who are worried- this story will STILL be mainly about Sam and Dean- and their awesome relationship. Don't worry, I don't intend to put the new family addition into the center of attention. Just more reason for Sam to feel insecure about (definitely also jealous!) and give the story some more kick. Dean will become a more active role in this story as it progresses. :) I love him too much to keep him away for too long. And Sam will need his big bro for what's about to come...  
>Reviews are lovee! Please tell me what you thought! :D<em>


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